


The Sky That We Look Upon

by Vagrant_Blvrd



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Minecraft Setting, M/M, Sky Factory AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 15:32:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16287179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrant_Blvrd/pseuds/Vagrant_Blvrd
Summary: To be tossed from the heavens, playground of the gods, is an affront.





	The Sky That We Look Upon

**Author's Note:**

> I've been rewatching Sky Factory recently and it's given me the feels. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

To be tossed from the heavens, playground of the gods, is an affront.

Ryan wheels around the moment he realizes what’s happened, disbelieving and incredulous.

Teeth bared, anger burning through him Ryan reaches for his power – all the might granted him from the Elder Gods to help nurture this fragile new world – and finds mere wisps of his usual might. 

Elusive tendrils that shy away from him as he grasps for them, the way they had when he was truly young. Unlearned the ways of restrained or control, finesse, and the Elder Gods had deemed it right to limit the length and breadth of his powers.

“You’ve been banished.”

Ryan turns, strides over to where Michael stands, insolent as ever, head tilted just so.

“What have you done?” Ryan demands, hands curling into fists at his sides. 

There’s – it’s not vicious satisfaction in Michael’s eyes, more like sympathy.

“You reached too far,” Michael says gently, unruffled by Ryan’s anger. “We’re meant to help the mortals, use our powers to aid them. This foolishness with the dragons - “

“I did it to help all of us!” Ryan says, hands thrown up and something like fear clawing at him. “They were returned unharmed!”

Michael's eyes narrow, and Ryan holds himself still under his gaze, breath caught in his throat. Michael has ever been a warrior in spirit, even before he was chosen to join their fledgling pantheon, and Ryan has wronged him most of all in this.

“All but one,” Michael says, and there’s steel in his voice, and fire carefully banked, because he still considers Ryan a friend.

Ryan opens his mouth to defend himself, because that dragon has been vital if his plans were to succeed. To birth the dragons that would follow, its soul is waiting still to be reborn. Not destroyed, merely...transmuted.

“You reached too far,” Michael says again, voice softer this time. “The Elder Gods felt you needed to be reminded what humility is.”

Ryan looks away, heat high on his cheeks because he’s grown reckless in his boredom. 

Jealous of the gifts Jack had made of his dragon eggs to Michael and the others. Impatient, he’d sought to find a better way of doing things and abused the trust the others had in him, the way of things between them.

“And so I’m meant to crawl about down here like the mortals?” he asks, hurt and humiliation leaking into his voice. “Is that how I’m to learn this lesson?”

Michael laughs, and Ryan staggers when he claps a friendly hand to his shoulder. A painful reminder that he’s nearly mortal now, powers stripped from him and far more fragile than Michael and the others in their splendor.

“If that’s how you want to go about it, then yes,” Michael says. “But you’re discrediting these mortals. They’re far more interesting than you think. We could all learn from them.”

Ryan looks up at Michael, and there’s a gentle smile on his face as he takes Ryan’s hand in his.

“The faster you learn that,” he says, “the sooner you can be back with us tinkering about with your creations.”

And then he’s gone, a flash of light and rush of displaced air, and a weight in Ryan’s hands. A small pouch that clinks softly when he moves his hand – coins, most likely.

Currency to help pay his way in the coming days.

Ryan stares at the pouch, and sighs as he looks about him.

There’s a dirt road alongside a small river, and what looks like farmland in the distance. He should reach it before the sun sets, and if the gods are willing, he can offer a few coins for a place to spend the night.

Ryan sighs as he feels a breeze caress his cheek, laughter like bells on a bright clear day, and above him the sky blue and cloudless. 

A favorable omen indeed, and welcome sign that Michael is not the only one watching over him. 

========

Ryan’s unaccustomed to feeling hunger or exhaustion. To the way his feet ache as he travels closer to the farm he’d seen earlier, farther than it seemed at first glance. 

He stops to rest by the river, seeking relief from the heat under the shade of tree. Laughs quietly when he sees a waterskin and a beautiful red apple resting against the trunk of the tree as though they were waiting for him to happen by.

The apple is more filling than anything in the mortal world should be, and when he steps out on the road again with a full waterskin, a cool breeze seems to follow him.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, unspeakably grateful for these small signs that he has not done something truly unforgivable, that his fellow gods have not turned their backs on him.

========

There are a great number of chickens.

Various kinds and breeds happily foraging for food in a fenced off yard before a small farmhouse.

“Get back here!”

Ryan backpedals quickly to keep from being run over as a figure in well-worn clothing races after a small bundle of feathers and spite.

He watches in shock as the farmer chases the chicken around the yard, yelling dire threats and obscenities all in the same breath. After a lengthy chase he finally manages to catch it. Plucks the squawking thing up and holds it close, scowling down at it as he scolds it for misbehaving

“...Hello?” Ryan says, wondering if this, too, is part of his punishment.

The farmer looks up, eyes narrowing as he studies Ryan.

He doesn’t strike a particularly threatening figure, tall and lean with sleepy looking eyes and a rather alarming beard. Wild and unkempt, vastly different from Jack’s neatly trimmed one. Tattoos covering his hands that look as though they continue under the sleeves of his tunic.

“Who are you?” he demands, blunt and somehow insulting, for all that his question is a reasonable one.

“I - “ Ryan blinks as the chicken lets out an unholy noise.

The farmer sighs, as though it’s a common occurrence and goes to the low fence and tosses it over to join the others before turning back to Ryan.

“Well?”

There’s a shrewd look in his eye as he looks Ryan over, taking in the finery of his clothes, the pouch of coins at his belt. 

Ah.

“I’m a traveler,” Ryan says, smiling at little at the suspicious look that earns him. “I hoped I would be able to find a place to say for the night? I can pay.”

The farmer sighs, head shaking as he gestures for Ryan to follow him to the farmhouse. 

“Of course,” he says, as though Ryan has been sent by the gods to test his patience. “Come on then, I was just about to start dinner.”

========

The farmer, a simple man named Geoff, shakes Ryan awake the next morning before the sun has begun its trek across the sky, sharp grin on his face.

“Time for chores!” he yells, with a manic sort of energy that’s a bit alarming in its intensity. “Damn chickens don’t feed themselves.”

Ryan balks, pulling the thin blanket covering him up higher.

Geoff had given him the use of his spare room waving off the coins Ryan had offered him saying he could pay for it in the morning.

“I - “

“Up!” Geoff yells, gathering up Ryan’s clothes to toss them rudely at his head. “You stay under my roof, you work to earn your keep!”

Ryan stares at him wide-eyed.

“I have money - “

“Chores! Now!” Geoff yells, and stomps away.

For a moment, Ryan stares at the door, wondering what the madman will do if he fails to make an appearance, but the door opens and Geoff pokes his head through it to glare at him.]

“Now, please,” he says, far too politely for all the teeth on display in a parody of a smile.

========

Geoff is surprisingly patient with Ryan as he fumbles his way through the chores, unused to such work. 

“You gotta watch the little devils,” he says, as Ryan eyes the chickens warily. “They’ll peck you if they smell fear.”

“...I’m sorry?”

Geoff rolls his eyes and collects eggs from the closest chicken, who appears unfazed.

“Now you,” he says, and waves a hand at the next chicken, one with glossy black feathers and a glint in her eye.

Ryan glances at Geoff, but the farmer has moved on to the other side of the hen-house gathering eggs.

“Alright then,” Ryan says, shoving his trepidation down.

He is a god, after all, disgraced as he is.

One small chicken is no match for him.

========

Humility, it would seem, is a hard lesson for one to learn. 

========

“What did I tell you?” Geoff asks, tutting over the state of Ryan’s hand, broken skin and badly bruised flesh, little flecks of blood. “I said - “

“I wasn’t _afraid_ of it.” Ryan says, as Geoff presses on the wound lightly and Ryan watches blood beading up.

Gods don’t bleed, but he is no god now. Something more than mortal, but only just.

“Perhaps that’s the problem,” Geoff says quietly as he cleans the blood away and wraps Ryan’s hand with rough cloth. 

========

There are other chores to see to on this little farm. 

Animals to feed, crops to water, and by the time they’re done the sun has risen and Ryan aches.

Geoff’s been keeping a close eye on him. Almost as though his he’d felt his faith that Ryan could accomplish simple tasks was grievously misplaced after the incident with the chicken.

He seems amused at the sluggish way Ryan moves, muscles sore, back aching, as he marvels at just how delicate humans must be if he feels so wrung out.

“Wash up first,” Geoff says, and hands Ryan a bucket as he points towards the well at the center of the yard. “I need to check on a few things.”

Ryan watches as Geoff heads into the hen-house once again, coaxing tone to his voice as he charms the chickens in his care. 

The bucket is heavy in his hands, sides worn smooth. 

Ryan looks down at it, and then the well, muscles aching at the thought of having to haul up water if he hopes to become presentable again.

Glances up at the sun shining merrily down on him, and does not sigh, because he brought this down on himself.

========

Over the coming days, it becomes clear Ryan is meant to learn humility here at Geoff’s small farmstead.

========

When he intends to leave to continue his quest, a storm springs up, sudden and fierce. 

Geoff takes him by the arm, to aide him in securing the chickens and other farm animals. The shutters that cover the glass windows of his farmhouse.

“Don’t just stand there, idiot!”

Ryan casts a look to the skies, and swears he can hear laughter on the wind before he hurries after Geoff.

========

Days pass, and Ryan learns the trick of collecting eggs from Geoff’s chickens without injury, to Geoff’s bemusement.

He grows callouses on his hands from honest, hard work, as Geoff calls it, feeding the animals and tending to the crops. A small yield, just enough to stock away for the lean months with a little extra to sell at market. A patch for vegetables and a few wild fruit trees behind the farmhouse.

It’s a modest existence, but Geoff seems satisfied with his lot. Skin tanned by the sun and fine lines around his eyes, his mouth. 

Easy laughter, and so very kind it hurts to think about, knowing what mortals are capable of. (They see all, in their home high above the mortal realm. The terrible things mortals are capable of, and still there is such good in this little world they watch over.)

Ryan learns how this small farm works, and he sees places where things could be made easier. Possible ways to make less work for Geoff - for one man to keep up with the demands of so many responsibilities without driving himself to exhaustion and overwork.

He designs small machines, clever contraptions, and builds them from materials he finds around the farm. Uses the coins he has to buy them from the marketplace in the nearby village, and spends long nights building them.

Geoff is in turns dubious and awed by Ryan’s creations, things that will make life easier for him when Ryan returns to his own duties. (Ryan pushes aside the small ache in his chest at the thought, his driving motivation all this time was to be restored to his rightful position, and his respite at Geoff’s farm hasn’t changed that.)

“What?” Geoff asks, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand as he hauls another bucket of water from the well.

Ryan shakes his head, looking away to tend to his own work, grateful for the warm weather to explain away the redness in his face.

“I was just thinking there must be an easier way to do that,” he demurs.

Geoff laughs, bright and clear as the sky above them. 

“If anyone could devise a way, it would be you,” he says, warmth in his voice. “Until then, help me with this, will you?”

========

It cannot last, of course.

Ryan is a god, and there is a balance to be kept.

He snaps awake one night when he feels a presence in the small room that’s become his.

Sits up, and there at the foot of his bed is Michael, wry smile on his face as he looks at Ryan.

“How the mighty have fallen,” he teases, looking around curiously.

He walks over the hook on the wall that holds the cloak Ryan wears it rains. Old and many times mended with care. A threadbare coat beside it for when the weather is cool. Boots with worn down soles, all castoffs of Geoff’s he’s been given.

“Michael.”

Michael thumbs the edge of the cloak, smile on his lips when he turns back to Ryan.

“You’ve kept busy,” he says. “But there’s work to be done elsewhere. Have you learned your lesson?”

Ryan - 

“Oh, what’s this?”

Ryan’s eyes widen, and he looks over to see Gavin poking about the small desk in the corner. The much loved books Geoff has loaned to him they discuss after dinner at night when the chores are done and they have time to spend as they will.

Strangely private things, and he can’t abide the thought of Gavin’s mischief touching them.

“ _Gavin_.”

Gavin laughs, hand about to touch the leather cover withdrawing as he moves to join Michael. Leans forward, head tipped to the side as he regards Ryan, a slow smile spreading over his face.

“Well this is quite the surprise,” he says, and laughs when Michael’s elbow meets his ribs, dancing away from the contact.

Ryan leans away from them, not certain he wants to know what’s going on in Gavin’s head. A tricky, twisty place, not fit for the sane, and looks to Michael.

“I’m not sure that I have,” Ryan admits.

He was sent here to learn humility, and all he’s done is care for chickens and befriend their cantankerous caretaker. Spent day after day learning the simple joys mortals take for granted, the hard work that goes into life here. 

Truly learned how small their voices are this far down, and still they thrive.

Michael reaches for Ryan’s hand and turns it so his palm is facing up. Lightly touches the callouses there, formed from hard work and dedication. 

“No?” he asks, and releases Ryan’s hand. “It makes no difference, I suppose. We’ve come to bring you home.”

Ryan blinks at him, gaze darting to Gavin who gives him an odd smile and a slight shrug.

“Work to do,” he says, and blinks away, leaving Ryan staring at empty space. 

Michael sighs, deeply aggrieved, but Ryan catches the amusement in his eyes as he looks at Ryan.

“Come home,” Michael says.

Michael holds his hand out, and Ryan takes it without a second thought as they move between worlds, and can’t help but feel as though he’s leaving part of himself behind in that small farmstead.

========

There are a great number of dragons.

“Your doing,” Jack says, laughing as the Ender dragon behind him moves to rest its chin on Jack’s shoulder, unfathomable eyes focused on Ryan.

Ryan glances around at the various dragons populating their world now. Smile touching his lips at the trio of sky dragons that fly past, Michael’s laughter ringing out as the smallest struggles to keep up.

“So I see,” he says, hardly daring to believe his eyes as Jeremy darts by on his Nether dragon, Lindsay pursuing on a dragon of her own.

“Welcome home,” Jack says warmly, and leads Ryan to the dragon nursery he created to watch over the clutch of eggs due to hatch soon, no lingering ill-will over his moment of pique.

=======

Ryan has so much to catch up on. The others oversaw his duties while he was gone, but they had their own responsibilities to see to as well.

It consumes him for a time, re-calibrating and adjusting his machines and fine-tuning things. ‘Tinkering’, as Michael calls it, but soon enough he finds himself distracted, unable to focus.

Spends hours at the observation platforms looking down at the mortals far, far below them, feeling strangely small and helpless for all the power he wields. The ease of life here, for all they’ve worked hard to build what they have.

He understands now, why the others visit the mortal world so often. Disguise themselves to be able to move among the mortals as one of them, marveling at the things they’ve been able to create of their own.

Jack follows him there one night because he’s second oldest among them, and they’ve helped guide the younger gods together. Grown attuned to each other, friendship forged in shared exasperation at the other’s antics, if nothing else.

“There are no rules to this,” Jack says waving a hand around them, as he settles beside Ryan.

There are flowers plaited into his beard, a lopsided crown of flowers resting on his head. (A gift from Lindsay, or perhaps Gavin.)

Ryan tilts his head, unsure of his meaning, and Jack sighs.

“Go see your mortal, Ryan,” he says, and Ryan feels a hand on his back, power behind it that tastes of green things and _life_ , and he falls.

========

When he opens his eyes, it’s to the sound of chickens.

A great number of chickens.

“Thought you ran off on me,” Geoff says, guarded, wary.

Ryan sits up, and realizes he’s in the small bed in Geoff’s spare room, a hole in the roof where he must have broken through as he fell. (Pushed, and Jack’s laughter in his ears.)

His eyes slide past the familiar cloak and coat handing up on their hooks. Away from the small window overlooking the yard. Everywhere but at the man seated in the chair beside the bed.

“Ryan?”

There’s concern in Geoff’s voice, and confusion.

“Ah,” Ryan says, and can’t seem to find the words to explain himself. “Hm.”

Geoff opens his mouth to speak, and seems to think better of it as he sighs, shoulders slumping slightly as he watches Ryan.

“’Traveler’ my ass,” Geoff mutters, looking up at the hole, no possible way to explain it without the truth.

There are no trees this side of the farmhouse. 

Nothing Ryan could have climbed to have come through the roof like so, motes of dust caught in the daylight streaming through.

“Knew something was off with you when I saw you,” Geoff says. “But I thought you were a noble. Got separated from your entourage or some such.”

It would have been easier if he were, Ryan knows. Riches to his name, and some small influence at court. Dealing in political intrigue, and _mortal_.

“No,” Ryan says quietly.

Geoff snorts, and after a long moment looks back at him.

Ryan looks back, not sure how to explain himself, if Geoff would appreciate it.

Geoff’s expression softens.

“I could use a hand with the chickens, if you’re up to it,” he says, something terribly uncertain to his words, the way his eyes cut away from Ryan’s as he stands. “No rest for the wicked, as they say.”

Ryan watches him go, conflicted. Caught between duty and simple, selfish want.

Reflects on Jack’s words, gentle humor and understanding in his voice.

Thinks how fleeting a mortal’s life is in comparison to theirs, there and gone in an instant, but oh what a difference it makes. (Butterflies and a single flap of their wings.)

The others and the ties they’ve made with the mortals they’ve befriended. Gone for stretches at a time only to return with a somber look in their eyes and bittersweet smiles on their faces, and never once regret to be found.

Breathes deep, and gets up because there’s work to be done.

========

Geoff looks up when Ryan opens the door to the hen-house, something fragile in his eyes as Ryan moves to help him with the chores.

“Ryan?”

“I hoped I would be able to find a place to say for the night? I can pay.”

Geoff stares at him in shock, and when he laughs it’s bright and beautiful as he drops the empty basket he’s holding to reach for Ryan. 

As his lips meet Geoff’s, Ryan finally feels whole again.


End file.
